#classic rock imagine

[pageydrinkstea]

Robert Plant refreshing himself with some juice

[thepinkwriterr]

Capricorn Season Chapter Thirty

Table of Contents

Word Count: 3.6k

She liked the beard. He looked rugged, in his own special way. The appeal of his beauty was always the defiled innocence of his smooth face. When he told her that he was growing it out she thought he would look horrible. But when she saw him she didn't think that at all.

She was laying on her stomach on the bed, feet in the air, and kicking them like a schoolgirl. He was sitting on the floor in front of the mirror, doing his hair and getting ready for the day.

"Have I ever told you how much I love the beard?" She asked, locking eyes with his reflection.

He smiled and turned to look at her. "No, you haven't. I was getting a bit nervous that you hadn't said anything about it yet." "Well, I love it," she kissed the top of his head, "Now I've said something." "I'm glad you do. I think it looks nice." "You look like a sexy professor like that." She was referring to his outfit. He wore a white dress shirt, complete with ruffles, and a nice pair of trousers. "That's kind of the look I was going for. Scarf or no scarf?" He held up a green silk scarf. She thought it complimented his outfit well and told him so. He nodded and began to tie it. "You should try it like this." She reached her hands around his neck.

His breath hitched as her hands brushed against his skin. The scent of her filled his nose, an unmistakable smell that only she possessed. It was floral and vanilla. He always thought it was wonderful. He thought it could be a mix of her shampoo and deodorant.

"That looks marvelous, thank you." He spoke breathlessly.

They had been together for eight months and she still made him dizzy and fumbling. He couldn't deny her effect, didn't want to. She smiled sweetly and sat back on the pillows, continuing the reading of her book. How could she be so unceremonious, so laid back, when she was absolutely breathtaking?  She was stunning, certainly the most beautiful woman he had seen, but didn't seem to care. She thought this way about him too. She often thought how he didn't seem to be cognizant of how wonderful he really looked. Sometimes he was even insecure, which was always a laugh for her. The only time he looked poorly was when he chose a bad outfit, which she always had something to say about. "You need to change. A red scarf clashes with a yellow top and the plaid printed pants don't match anything you're wearing!" "No, the red scarf matches the red pants. There is yellow in my pants and yellow on my top. It goes together." "Fine, but you're the one who is going to look bad." "I don't look bad!" "That outfit is a disaster. I don't want you to leave the hotel like that." She was mostly joking, ending in a laugh. But it was true! He looked terrible. "Is this criticism or care?" "Care, I promise. Trust me, Jimmy, it looks bad." "I disagree." He shrugged, "And I'm wearing it to the show." "Alright, but it's your fashion funeral." His outfit today looked much better. His colors matched and he was presentable. "Love, I think you should start getting ready. We have to leave soon." "I think I'll just go like this." "Can I give you some fashion advice?" "Oh, no. Does my outfit look that poor?" She laughed.

He grimaced, gesturing to tell her "a little bit". "Fine, I'll change. What is the weather like?" "Hot. It's August." "Good point." 

She chose a pair of shorts and a short top. The shirt she wanted to wear was in Lorelei's possession. She didn't mind, because she had asked. Robert and Jimmy never did. Yesterday she caught Robert sifting through her clothes! "Um, what are you doing?" She had been watching him rifling through her things like a rat. He jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Oh, Jesus, you scared me!" "I ask again, what are you doing?" She shifted her weight and put her hand on her hip. "Looking for something to wear." "Can you at least ask? Jeez. What do you want?" "That flowery blouse you wore last week." "Robert, you can't fit in that!" "Yes, I can! I'm slim." "Fine," She threw the balled-up shirt at him, "but if you stretch it out I'm killing you." "I won't, I swear." He did. She looked at the blouse now, wearing a frown. It still fit, although now loose and frumpy. Perhaps she'd just have Richard do her laundry and he would shrink it for her. He was a lousy tour mother.

He took more of a liking to her than Grant but still didn't cater to her, but Jimmy did not enjoy the way he looked at and talked about her. He had made it clear from the first day she joined that he found her attractive. He first justified the uncomfortable interaction with the notion that she was a lovely girl and he would just have to get used to people finding her fit. But Richard took it too far-- as he often did. "Jimmy, you got the best out of all the guys. Don't tell them I said that." "What does that mean?" "She's a photographer, so she's good to keep in your back pocket, she's a looker, and sweet. The way she takes care of you...Man, I need to get one of those." "And what does that mean?" He asked with a raised brow. "Y'know, I need to get a girl like that. And with her figure-" "Rich! That's his girl." Bonzo spoke for Jimmy. "My bad." He laughed. Jimmy tried his best to shuffle his anger away but it didn't work. He could feel the ugly hands of jealousy creeping in. This wasn't helped when they went to a club and men seemed to overlook him, hitting on Gwen even when they were holding hands. He was getting angrier and more jealous by the day.

He brought this to her attention, telling her it was getting hard to handle. She laughed and scoffed, and shook her head. When he asked what was the matter, the bitter bite of anger rearing at her reaction, she told him, "I have to deal with women literally trying to tear your clothes off. Do you know how many women I see literally asking to sleep with you and shrugging me off? And they're not sloppy men in a club, they're beautiful women scantily dressed. Thousands of people cheer and scream for you every single night. Women pray to god for a chance to even touch you. You know how hard that is for me?" He had thought about this, of course, but he couldn't see how that was relevant at this moment. When he told her this she seemed angry.

"You're not listening to how I feel." He exerted.

"I am, I understand. But I'm telling you that you have to get over it. I have to."

"It's not the same." He crossed his arms and pouted.

"You're right, it's worse."

"I'm a celebrity. You agreed to date me. You knew what you were getting into."

"And I'm a pretty girl. You knew what you were getting into." She crossed her arms now. They were both pouting. They'd given up trying to have an adult conversation, instead resigning to childish behavior and scoffs.

She thought about this interaction as she put on her shoes. His logical fallacy was amusing to her now, simply a musing that was pushed into the past. They'd both learned to get over their silly feelings of jealousy. At least

she

had. She hoped he had, but didn't know how untrue her thoughts were.

That night, after the show, another fit would strike. The concert had gone well, not having any interruptions or issues. Gwen took some nice photos and had a great time. Their energy always inspired her and spurred her to take wonderful photos.

As they were entranced by the music flowering from their fingertips they struck natural poses. They tried their best to face the audience, partly for her frames, partly for the audience. It was hard, though, they were so tight-knit and worked best when it was just them. Their shows felt like jam sessions when they first started, but as the audiences grew, so did the space between them.

After the show, they went to a club, as was becoming usual. Some towns didn't have good clubs or parties and those were the nights they partied together. But this was Texas and the parties were

superb

, as Robert put it.

Gwen wore her shorts and top from earlier in the day and Lorelei was in a pretty dress. The guys had showered and changed, a short detour on their way to the club. She was not excited to be packed into a sweaty lounge with loud music. They'd just been in the same environment and she didn't know why they had to go back. She wanted to wind down with a nice shower and a good book after a show.

Perhaps they were too filled with adrenaline to be that calm. She knew about this rush, not only because they'd detailed it to her before, but because Jimmy was wired after a show. He was borderline manic, his eyes wide and his mouth going a mile a minute. It was a natural drug, one that gave his reserved personality a spark.

He was charged after a show, particularly his sex drive, which was insane when the lights went out. He had detailed to her how carnal performing was. And he proved it. They weren't even back to the hotel and he would be trying to rip her clothes off. She would protest, telling him they were in public. He would shrug and continue to kiss her. She pushed him back, further exerting that he was sweaty and stinky and would need to shower before she would even consider sleeping with him. Tonight was no different.

He wanted her more than ever. His eyes drifted to her exposed legs, long and taut. He transfixed his eyes on her chest, considering it as a resting place for his tired hands. When he attempted this she slapped his hand away.

How could one person get so sweaty? He was dripping buckets! He could perform stark nude and he'd still come out slippery and stinky. He was like a caught fish.

After he was fresh and cleaned off, she allowed him to kiss her. He gladly devoured her lips in a hungry display of virile fervor. She could rise a dead man from his tomb with those lips, he thought. He was grateful she let him kiss her. He was desperate for any kind of contact with her.

She laughed and told him to get that thing down before they got to the club. She stopped kissing him, despite his whimpering protests. He was staring at her as they walked into the club. She looked wonderful. Never before had she looked this way. Although, he thought that with each passing day. Her beauty grew, swelling until it reached a sweltering heat that choked him. She was far too beautiful to be real or to be his. He'd found an angel amongst men. Someone had begun to threaten this beauty. A man, a bumbling fool, was grabbing at her. They were on the dancefloor and Jimmy was not sharing. He saw Gwen's face, scared and wanting to hide away. Still drunk on adrenaline and filled with jealousy, Jimmy pushed the guy aside with heavy force. "I'm sorry about that, Darling. But you are mine once more." He smiled. This victory was short-lived. The man came back around quickly, angry with Jimmy. "She's my girlfriend. Fuck off." He did not mince words. He was drunk and malice dripped from his tongue. She could smell the whiskey from where she was standing. It was not an attractive sight.

"My apologies, man. I didn't know she had a man." "So you'll respect me now? Just because I have a man." She spoke loudly as to be heard over the music.

He looked at her with a disgruntled expression.

"Well? Are you just going to look at me like you're stupid?" She widened her eyes, looking at him with a furrowed brow.

"You're a bitch." He said simply, sneering with disgust. He couldn't believe she would be so brazen.

Jimmy sobered with those words, now stricken with fury. He was not a physical man and would not often resort to violence. "Don't speak to her that way. You need to leave, right now." His words were cutting, his eyes lowering into menacing slits.

"Are you going to make me, cheerios?" "What? That doesn't even make sense. And never mind that. I won't, but he will." Jimmy pointed him in the direction of Peter. Gwen now understood why having him in your corner was a good idea. When things got ugly you needed a guy like him. "You can leave on your own or his accord."

Jimmy's gaze got Peter's attention and he headed over to them in short strides. "This guy bothering you?" He asked, his voice was sharp and intimidating. His size was suddenly noticeable, his voice as round and sonorous as his body.

"Yeah," Jimmy said.

Without hesitation, Peter picked the guy up and threw him over his shoulder. He looked like a child, so small and defenseless in his grasp. This made Gwen laugh, loosening her grasp on Jimmy's arm. She had been clinging to him in fear. Random drunk men approaching her wasn't any less uncomfortable for her than it was for him.

"Are you alright, love?" Peter asked when he was back in their presence. He had thrown the guy on the pavement, placing him down haphazardly. He hadn't even broken a sweat.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you." She smiled appreciatively. Who knows what would have happened if Peter hadn't come to her rescue? Jimmy wasn't exactly the burly type.

"Don't worry, girl, I'll always be here if that happens again." Peter clapped a surprisingly gentle hand on her shoulder and went back to his place next to Bonzo.

Jimmy turned back, gloating with a smile. Gwen was not as happy. She was filled with bitterness. A mixture of her discomfort and a general disdain for her environment was making her unhappy. Her mind couldn't help but wander to all of these uncomfortable places. Her discomfort was palpable as she stared into space. The familiar feeling of strange hands made her insides cringe. She pushed her feelings down and tried to get through this unbearable night. The club was not a place to fight.

-

The next morning her anger erupted. It must have been building all night, stacking up while she slept. She could feel the weight of her dread when she woke. It was a metric ton of bricks on her chest. She didn't want to bother Jimmy this early in the morning. Not only was she angry and bitter, but anxious about letting it out. She didn't want to bite his head off but also didn't want to suppress it.

She could still feel those terrible hands on her body. It made her skin erupt into a flaming rash of anxiety. Her breathing was heavy and labored. Her limbs could not stop fidgeting. What seemed like a small advance lead to a shattering of her mental state. That man was not trying to flirt, he intended to shake her.

And she was shaken. She trembled like a leaf throughout the night and into the light stretch of the morning sun. Breakfast did not help. Bonzo was especially nasty that day. Before she'd even gotten down to eat he was talking shit. She heard him talking to Robert, saying one of the worst things she'd ever heard about herself. "She's a carpenter's wet dream. Flat like a board and in need of a screw." He bellowed with a guttural laugh. She could hear the smile in his voice.

Her first instinct was to pounce. But she didn't. She waited. She wanted to hear what everyone would say. Robert spoke first, "Bonzo, that is horrible."

Jimmy and Jonesy said nothing.

Last night was bad enough, to be treated as an object and only defended for some cheap honor. Jimmy wasn't defending her, he was defending his manhood. How dare someone touch his precious doll that sat on his little shelf? His reluctance, rather than his refusal, to defend her in a meaningful way was shown to her. He said nothing when it mattered.

Her face contorted with the weight of betrayal. She wasn't so hurt by what Bonzo said, but more so by Jimmy's silence. This had far surpassed a few teasing comments. Bonzo hated her, hated Jimmy's girlfriend and he didn't seem to care.

They turned at the sound of her shuffling feet in the doorway. They saw her pained expression. This pleased Bonzo. He was content to know his shot had landed on the target.

He got a twisted pleasure from hurting her. It was a special treat for a lone audience. On the days that he imbibed early in the morning, he attacked her.

She turned away with hot tears brewing on her lashline, quiet steps rushing from the scene.

The room was quiet now. They shuffled their eyes, passing awkward glances around. Robert broke the tension, as he often did. He found it hard to always be the peacekeeper, the jester, and the pretty one. But these roles needed to be filled, and he was multifaceted.

"You should go talk to her."

Jimmy grimaced and burned in hot anger. Who was Robert to tell him what he should do with his own girlfriend? He knew what was best for his relationship! But he stood with a huff and went to their room.

When he was out of their sight he broke into a fast-paced walk. He knew he was in trouble, he knew he was in the wrong. Perhaps that's why things played out the way they did. He didn't want to be wrong. He would rather die than apologize.

He was on her heels, in the room before she could even shut the door.

When he entered she just looked at him. She was overcome with feelings.

She just wanted to scream at him. "Gwen-" "Don't. Just don't. I don't want some half-assed apology." "I'm sorry." "I said I don't want it. I'm sick of you not standing up for me. Do you know how embarrassing that is? I heard what he said." She tried her best to remain calm. "I just don't know what to say." "You sure knew what to say last night." "What does that mean?" His expression was causing anger to churn inside her. It was a poorly plugged drain. The stopper was beginning to lose its seal and she soon would explode. "You can defend me when your honor is in question. This has never been about me, it's been about your ego. When your ego is concerned, you will say something. You don't care about me! You only care about yourself." Her voice raised in pitch as she spoke. "We're having this conversation again? That is not true! And you know it isn't. It's not the same when it's your friend." "Robert stood up for me. It's clearly not an issue for him." "What are you implying?" "Nothing." "Oh, c'mon, you were so brazen before. Don't be so shy now." "No, I didn't mean anything by it. He stood up for me and you didn't." "I think you meant something entirely different." "Like what?" She prodded.

She had waded into dangerous territory. No longer was this an argument about the topic at hand. They were taking jabs at one another due to unspoken feelings. She could feel the energy shifting to something nasty.

"I used to think Robert was just flirting with you because he's a whore, but now I see the truth. He's in love with you!" "In love with me? Jimmy, was just sticking up for me. You couldn't even do that." "No, you don't get it. Men don't do nice things for women unless they want something from them. He wants to take you to bed." "You sound crazy!" "I'm crazy? You're the one yelling at Bonzo and getting an attitude with me!" "Well, I think you have a problem with Robert because you feel inferior. You think he's more of a man than you and you're worried he's going to take me from you." "Maybe if you didn't dress that way he wouldn't be throwing himself all over you. Maybe Grant would take you more seriously." "I cannot fucking believe you. You've reached a new low." Her tone dropped, laying flat where her emotions lie.

She was hurt. She knew this wasn't how he truly felt, he was trying to hurt her. With nothing left to say, she left the room. Their room was no longer a place where love could be facilitated. She had to escape.

She left Jimmy's grasp immediately and directly to Robert's room. She placed three sharp knocks on the door.

It revealed a damp Lorelei. Her curls were stringy and wet, dangling down at her cheeks. Her face and arms were flecked with drops of water.

"Hey, girl, is everything alright?" She asked, scrunching her hair with a white towel. She had another one wrapped around her torso.

Gwen stepped in with apprehension. "Lore, there's something I need to tell you." She stood in the doorway, a look on her face that scared Lorelei.

----

Taglist:

@anothercanyonlady​ , @jonesyjonesyjonesy​   @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin​ , @jimmysdragonsuit13    

[diamondstuddedflunkies]

hi there!! i was just wondering if you could write something about it being cold outside and snuggling into jim because hes so warm with some smut pls? its okay if not ofc!! hope youre doing well ☺️

Hi!! I love this prompt so much. I think I actually wrote something similar to this before, minus the smut, so the beginning is similar to that one. I rewrote it, though. It's a bit softer than intended, but honestly, I think this is one of the best things I've written on here in a while, and I'm really proud of it. Thank you so much for being so nice <3 I hope your day is awesome.

You rubbed your reddened hands together, raising your shoulders and shivering as the wind continued to push at your back. It was positively freezing outside- but arriving at the place you shared with Jim gave you hope that you would be able to warm up.

Fumbling with the frozen metal keys, you unlocked the door and stepped inside, quickly closing it behind you and shedding your jacket and shoes. Once you could, you would bury yourself under a pile of fluffy blankets and take a nice, long nap. 

“Are you alright, darling?”

You looked up and saw Jim standing in the living room, face fixed in an expression of concern as you shook your head. His eyes slowly traced your body, taking in your appearance- your red cheeks, your bunched shoulders, your bent knees.

You didn’t need to say more. He walked toward you, cupping your freezing cheek in his large hand, warmth prickling from his touch. Jim kissed you gently on the forehead. “I know what’ll help you warm up.”

Without warning, he scooped you up and carried you, bridal-style, to your shared bedroom. Eyes squeezed shut, you gratefully buried your face into his shoulder, heat radiating even through his shirt. He placed you gently on the bed, pulling away the covers and tucking them around your shoulders, shaking his head when you began to thank him. Jim took off his shirt and crawled under next to you. You gratefully pressed your forehead against the wool of his chest, grinning as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his warm body. Feeling flowed back to your frigid limbs and you pressed your legs and feet against his, soaking in the heat of his skin.

Jim tenderly held your chin, covering your face and the top of your head with kisses. He pressed gentle kisses to your nose and cheekbones, dark curls lightly brushing against you as he leaned in. Pulling you even closer, he rested his head against yours. “Does that feel better?” he whispered.

You nodded silently, too drowsy to speak.

—

You awoke hours later to Jim’s fingers caressing your side. Slowly, he ran his finger across your hip and down your thigh, leaning in to slowly kiss your neck. You could feel his erection pressing against your back as he was spooning you, his body close to yours.

Your eyes drifted open. Turning your head back to gaze at Jim, you returned his kiss as his right hand clamped down on your hip. Moaning deeply, he slipped his tongue into your mouth, holding his palm against the side of your face. He quickly pounced over you, pushing you against the bed as he continued to press his cock against your thigh. 

Jim bit down on your bottom lip, pawing impatiently at your shirt and pulling it over your head. He unclasped your bra, kissing and fondling your breasts, his bare chest pressed against your skin. Your skin prickled with goosebumps, nipples hardening to a point as Jim bit and twisted them hungrily.

He moved so his crotch hovered temptingly above you, making your mouth water with yearning. With a pleading gaze at Jim, you stroked the bulging fabric of his pants and he grinned, taking your fingers and wrapping them around the waistband. You tugged it down eagerly, revealing his hardened cock.

You moved to your knees and closed your lips around his cock, flicking his tip with your tongue. Licking and stroking his shaft playfully, you wrapped your hand around his length, pumping slowly as you continued to suck on his sensitive tip. Relaxing your throat, you moved in deeper, Jim’s cock slipping into you and choking you with his girth and length. 

Pulling your head back, you began moving your head slowing, cheeks hollowing as you sucked more harshly. You could feel him throb beneath your lips as he let out a sharp moan. Sensing his pleasure, you cupped and stroked his balls, tasting his hot precum on your tongue.

Jim paused and placed his hands at the sides of your head, holding you in place.

“Not yet, darling. Daddy isn’t done with you yet.”

Jim pushed you back down by the shoulders, quickly pulling down your pants and underwear and spreading your legs. He entered with a rough thrust, impatiently pounding into you, already close to his climax. The furniture rattled as the bed banged against the wall from the force of his passion. You reached around you, twisting the bedsheets in your grip as Jim buried his length inside you.

It was too much. You grit your teeth together and gasped, orgasm washing over you as Jim came into you, grasping your hips and pulling them towards him, filling you with his warm cum. 

You were a mess, weak and quivering, curled up beneath him as you closed your eyes, too overcome to move. Satisfied to see you at his mercy, Jim lay down next to you again, pulling you against his chest and putting a possessive grip around your body. 

“I love you, Daddy.” you whispered. You turned towards him, burying your face into his hairy chest. He grinned, running his hand down your back and kissing your forehead.

Nuzzling the back of your head, Jim’s voice was low and soft, drowsy and pleasured. “Mhmm… I love you, darling.”

[likesomekindofcheese]

Hello, I am a big fan of your writing 😄 Could you do a fic where a college aged Roger Taylor and the reader who have been dating for a while and they are waiting on a home pregnancy test? While they wait the reminisce about what they have gone through together and the good times. When the results are ready it's negative and they are relieved. Thank you!

Hi there nonnie! You got it! I will have two endings: one where the test is positive, and one where it is negative.

Per Anon's request, Reader here is a person whose body is able to have children, but because gender is not specified in the request, the reader will be gender neutral and can be read to identify however you would like!

Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! If you like it- reblog or leave a comment!

Warnings: Mentions of sex and some steamy bits but no specifics or details, mentions of drinking and drunkness, discussions of pregnancy, and mentions of abortion. But plenty of fluff!

Word Count: 1K

Link to my Comfort Character Letter and Playlist Etsy Shop

Link to My Ko-Fi for Comfort Character Letters

You reached for the pink kitchen timer in the shape of an egg and twisted it to fifteen minutes. That’s all it would take. That would be the moment of truth. Just fifteen little minutes and you would know for sure.

The timer was placed on the shelf of the sink. Right next to it was a pending pregnancy test. You placed both hands on the counter, looked into the mirror at your own face, and took in a deep breath. You held it, then released.

Watching the little white stick for fifteen minutes would only make you feel worse about the results you did not want yet.

Walking out, you saw Roger on the couch. You told him your period was late. Two days wasn’t much, but it was something. He turned over and looked at you.

“Hey, love,” he greeted.

“Hey,” you responded.

He opened his arms, and you followed him, plopping onto the couch. You nestled your head onto his chest where you felt it’s steady heartbeat. He wrapped both arms around you, one rubbing on your back. Another found a free hand of yours and held it.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Mmmph, you’re not the one getting tested.”

“Fair enough.”

He noticed your breaths were quick inhales and sharp exhales through your nose. It was troubling for him to hear such. He could even hear your heart pick up.

“Hey, Y/N...do you remember how we met?” he asked.

You looked up.

“What was it like on your end?” he asked.

“We’ve told this story before…”

“Nah, I’d like to hear It from you…” Roger responded.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You met at a bar. It was dark and there was that odd smell that came with beer- like you could smell bread baking from the wheat that was concocted inside the drink. It was that mixture of bakeries and bars- something delicious was being created to be consumed and enjoyed.

But you could not enjoy that beer in peace. A man who looked far older than you and quite odious slid up to you. He was smiling and trying to get your attention.

“Excise me…I’m just not in the mood tonight. Would you leave me alone, please?” you asked politely.

“What?? Don’t you like a free drink?” he asked, peeved.

You felt your blood run cold when you heard a voice:

 “Hey! I’ll get you anything you want, and you leave ‘em alone!”

You turned around to see…maybe not the most handsome man you met, but the most beautiful. You almost dropped your jaw. He had large blue eyes with thick lashes, porcelain skin, and the most beautiful, silky blonde hair you had ever seen. And he was walking up to you. You began to talk for hours and then traded numbers with smiling faces.

Your first kiss was in the rain. Roger had turned oddly romantic. He wanted to go to a museum of great interest to you. There was a special exhibit for only a limited time- a certain painter you adored. He bought you tickets- nice tickets! And this was before the band got off it’s feet too!

You grabbed his hand, ooing and aaaahing at the art. He smiled and admired it. If he thought anything rude about it, he kept it to himself. Even if he might have appeared low brow, he knew beauty when he saw it.

Once you walked out, it began to rain. Howling with laughter from the surprise of cold water splattering on your heads, you took off your jackets and huddled under them, running to the nearest shade you could find. One was a large tree planted in the sidewalk, proving a relief of raindrops. They weren’t a torrent, but manageable small drips every now and then. You both looked at each other, eyes bright from running and hair damp.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

You nodded yes.

You tasted the hamburger he ate for lunch, his tongue collided with yours, but his lips felt soft. On your book, it was a perfect first kiss.

It didn’t stop at kissing of course. The first time you did the deed, it was three days later. You had been studying over at his place. Luckily, he ordered in food, complete with dessert. As you put aside your flashcards, you gave a deep sigh.

“How do you feel, Y/N?”

“Good! I feel good about it!”

“Well then, guess we have time for this then!”

He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you onto his lap. You began to make out. Furiously. And you didn’t want it to stop this time.

 As you sat there, you gave him a naughty smile. Then you quickly pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it in the floor. From the quick blinking and half grin, he gave you, he was not going to stop you.

“Rog…Rog I want you…” you said, placing his lovely face in your hands as you began to kiss him again and again.

“I want you…” you trailed down to his neck. You felt his body relax beneath yours “so bad…”

“Have me then…” he said. He unbuttoned his own shirt. Soon you felt the warmth of each other’s bare skin against the others. And it didn’t stop at your shirts.

You were there for every concert you could make it to. You cheered loudly as you could. Despite the numerous groupies with their claws pointed at Roger, he shooed them away. They would give you a glare before moving onto the next band member in sight.  None of you minded that much. There were times you goofed off with drinking games and then would dance all night to your favorite songs before wandering to the house.

“Damn…” Roger would say…he reached into the closet and pulled out a bottle of vodka. He got out two shot glasses.

“Rog! It’s five in the morning? And you’re drinking vodka???” you gasped.

“Why else do it? We had an amazing concert and we're celebrating! We’re alive and it’s here, we might as well enjoy it!”

And then sleep until the afternoon when you woke up tangled in each other’s arms but smiling.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you were warm from thinking of those things there was a “Ding! Ding! Ding!” from the bathroom. The timer went up.

The moment of truth.

“Here it is…” you said nervously.

Roger took your hand and walked you to the bathroom. Shaking, you reached over and looked at the stick.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ending One: Positive-

Two lines. Two clear little pink lines. Roger was next to you; he clutched your hand. The inhale you were taking stopped in your throat. The stick was even moving with you hand. You kept blinking, then you let out a sharp exhale.

“Y/N….my Y/N, what do you think?” he asked.

This was huge. He couldn’t imagine what you were going through in your head.

“Y/N, if you need an abortion, I’ll help you. I’ll play the drums extra hard, I’ll pitch in what I have, I’ll help you to make it happen- we’ll find a clinic that’s safe and then you won’t have to..."

You let out a laugh, tears were already in your eyes, and you shook your head.

“No Roger! No!”

He tilted his head and squinted his blue eyes.

“No?”

“I mean, thank you! It’s kind of you to offer…but no!!!”

You hugged him with both arms, the test still in your hand, dangling off, the two lines staring at Roger. You gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Here’s what…I…I want to keep the baby…”

“Keep it? Then…then this is big, Y/N…but…you’re happy?”

“I am happy! I am happy that I have a part of you with me, always- that there’s going to be a person half you and half me out there in the world! I…I’ve wanted to be pregnant for a while now! And I want to have your baby!”

You relaxed in his arms and melted onto his shoulder.

You let go and he held your hands, pulling you close still.

“Y/N…we will do what we can…I…I never thought a year ago I would say this but…I will be a dad to this baby. I won’t leave you and I won’t leave the kid inside you either! You don’t have to be afraid now- you mean so much to me and if that means taking this on, I won’t mind…"

Outside you heard birds chirping as if celebrating. Roger licked his lips and then frowned, eyes looking down.

"But...I'll try...even if I’m not ready to be a dad…” he confessed.

“Will we ever be ready to be parents?” you asked.

There was a pause. The clock ticked as if in silent reply and outside a car passed by.

“Then…then we’ll raise the baby together.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ending Two: Negative.

There was only one line. There were two sighs. Roger was relieved secretly- no responsibilities. No human life to concern himself about. Y/N blinked and rechecked again and again, and then set it down.

“Well…well then!” you announced.

“Why, Y/N…we might need to celebrate!” Roger suggested.

“I…I think so!”

He went to the kitchen, even though it was still the afternoon, and the sun was shining through the windows.

 “Let’s have a drink- it’s something you would have to miss out on! We can throw in some coffee too! And all the stuff you wouldn’t be able to enjoy if you were pregnant!”

Sure enough he brought out the drinks and you were enjoying it. You both held small champagne glasses.

“Part of me…wants to be pregnant. Wants to be a mama. But I…I’m not so sure…”

“It’s a lot of work, Y/N. And…with the band…we’re enjoying what we have…”

“You know…you’re right! I like my life! I like my college and my classes and my friends!"

"No one wants to miss out on those!" Roger commented.

You played with the rim of your cup and looked down, then back up through your lashes at Roger

" Plus, there’s this handsome drummer I’m dating…” you added.

He leaned against the kitchen counter cockily.

“What’s he like?” Roger asked.

“Hilarious. Smart. Talented. Creative. Bold. Fearless. Passionate. Fiery. And best of all…he’s mine…” you praised.

“Same to you, darling.” He replied with a smile that could melt winter.

Taglist: @0x0spunky-monkey0x0 @seraphicmercury @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @queenlover05

[incorrect-band-situations]

Imagine Roger Waters and Mike Love getting in a legal battle against each other

[thelastdj]

One, two, three, four

Requested by: definitely not requested by @caspian-eats-guitars​

Request: On your classic rock imagines book could you do a tp one where its mudcrutch era mike campbell x tom petty and like theyre practicing together and both wondering how the other feels sorta thing? Thank youuu

Warning(s): none

masterlist

It was already half past two when Tom finally pulled up in the driveway in front of Mudcrutch Farm. Loud guitars could be heard from all the way outside. It appeared as if the band had started without him. He rushed inside as quickly as possible and tried to set up his bass as inconspicuously as he could.

“Jesus, Tom,” Ben immediately started once they finished, “You’re over an hour late.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged, not having an excuse prepared.

Benmont rolled his eyes but thankfully didn’t argue further.

“What are we doing today?”

“Up in Mississippi,” Mike informed him, “You said you had the bass figured out?”

“Yeah I think I got it,” he nodded.

Tom turned around to the rest of the band to see if they were ready, and then, “One, two, three, four.”

They played without vocals, not having set up a microphone beforehand, nevertheless Tom still mumbled the lyrics to himself quietly. He’d have to sing them at some point anyway. Tom tried to stay focused on the bass, the recently written notes were still somewhat unfamiliar.

When the solo finally arrived he allowed his eyes to wander around the room a bit until they came to rest on Mike. It was fascinating to watch him play. His fingers flew across the fretboard of his guitar with such precision and ease, it seemed as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him. Suddenly Tom became painfully aware of his own playing when he started losing track of the bassline. First one wrong note, then two more, and he had lost it completely.

“Fuck,” he hissed and quickly tried to pick it up again.

When he glanced up again he saw Mike staring at him. The guitarist raised an eyebrow as if to ask, ‘What was that?’ and for the second time that day Tom didn’t have an answer, so he shrugged. Mike held his gaze for a few more seconds, before realizing he was staring and turning back to the guitar.

They ran through the song a few more times, but they never managed a rendition where everyone was perfect. Much to Tom’s dismay, most of the screw ups were his, but how was it possible to focus on playing bass when he could feel a pair of dark brown eyes on him while he played. He had caught Mike looking in his direction a few times, but every time Tom tried to meet his gaze, the guitarist happened to become very interested in his own guitar.

Frankly it pissed him off. The whole ‘trying to catch the other staring’ thing was something high schoolers did. Not grown men. Especially not grown men. Tom knew how he felt, he was sure of it, and it didn’t make sense. But feelings like that barely ever made sense, did they? But that wasn’t exactly what frustrated him. It was the way Mike would blatantly stare at him, but bashfully look away if he ever caught him looking. It was the way he would seem like he wanted to say something, but then he’d catch himself at the last second and pull back. Maybe Tom was reading too much into these small actions. On other days they would act just like any two friends would. It was probably nothing. Mike definitely didn’t feel the way he did, and it would be much better for both of them if Tom just forgot about everything before he did something stupid that could mess up their friendship, the band, and a thousand other things.

Despite the odds, and despite trying to ignore it, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, he had a chance. It was a pathetic thing to hope for, but not all things you hope for you get, and this probably was one of those things.

“Tom?”

“Huh?” he spun around coming face to face with a certain curly haired guitarist.

“You seemed out of it today,” Mike noticed.

“Yeah, umm…” Tom looked down at his feet, not wanting to look up into Mike's dark eyes, “Didn’t sleep well I guess. Dunno.”

“We could run though it a couple of times, just you and me,” Mike suggested, before he considered how that might sound.

”Because, um, Randall’s got a date and Ben-”, he tried to explain himself but Tom cut in before he could finish.

“Yeah that’d be good. Thank you.”

He smiled in relief and sat down on the coffee table. Tom plugged in his guitar and moved to sit opposite of him. They were far apart enough that their guitars wouldn’t knock against each other, yet he could feel Tom's knee brushing against his.

“Where’d the others go?” Tom asked suddenly.

“Hm?” Mike looked up, “They went to Dub’s. Didn’t you notice?”

His brow furrowed comically, “No. I- I guess I spaced out.”

“You ‘spaced out’?” Mike laughed, he couldn’t help himself, “Ben and Charlie had a whole ass argument about where they wanted to go. You didn’t notice?”

Tom didn’t look hurt at his laughter, in fact a genuine smile was spreading across his face as well, not the one he used for pictures, but the one that graced his lips whenever he was really happy. ‘Why do I know that?’ Mike asked himself. It was true, Tom did have different smiles, but it surprised him that he knew that. He had never noticed such a small detail about any of the other guys. Then again, the other guys didn’t make him nervous when they were sitting only inches apart. For a second he wondered if he made Tom nervous too, but he dismissed the thought as soon as it came. Why would Tom feel like that too? Other men might, but not Tom.

“Hey, Mike?” Tom asked, drawing his attention away from the thoughts beginning to invade his brain.

“Mi-ike?” he repeated in a singsong voice, “I think this time you're the one that spaced out.”

“Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”

“I was asking what song we should do?” he said, grinning as he added, “Since I’m not too good at Up In Mississippi I thought we could do that one again.”

“Mhm, yeah. Sure,” he said, maybe too quickly.

“You okay?”

Tom was watching him closely, now those blue eyes were completely focused on him instead of staring into the distance at nothing. It seemed as if Tom could stare into his soul, seeing every thought that was currently racing though his mind.

“I’m fine,” he assured him, “Let’s go.”

Tom didn’t look entirely convinced at his statement. He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think the better of it. Instead he started tapping his foot to the beat and began the count off.

“One, two, three, four.”

Mike wondered what he wanted to say. What stopped him? Was it the same thing that stopped him whenever he wanted to confess? Or was it the opposite? Whatever it was that Tom wanted to say was going to plague him, he knew that already. Tom rarely decided to remain silent once he felt the need to speak, so whatever it was must’ve been important. Most times the words left unsaid were left that way to make life easier. And other times, they just made everything a thousand times more difficult. Maybe he’d never know which applied here, or maybe he would find out soon. Only time would tell.

[elvispresley]

John Lennon + his iconic orange glasses (1971)

[sabbathrose]

• (Slash) Live at the Ritz, 1991.

[kashmirzeppelin]

I want to go home…

And by home I mean 1973… watching all my favorite bands live in the park as the sun is setting in the sky above, and I am surrounded by good friends and positive vibes.

[pageydrinkstea]

Led Zeppelin backstage photos

[mywonderfulone]

Robert Plant interviewed in Iceland, 1970

having a rough couple of days, here is some fluffy robert for your feed :)

[thepinkwriterr]

Capricorn Season Chapter Thirty-One

"Um, okay, go on," I said, my voice quivering with uncertainty. 

Her hands fidgeted against each other as she pursed her lips. She looked as if she were searching for the words. 

Worry struck me.

I waited for her to speak, watching her features quiver in search of words. 

"The night me, Bonzo, and Robert went to see Sabbath something happened."

I didn't say anything.  

More worry.

She spoke with taut tension. Her pursed lips relaxed into a grimace as she preapred to speak.

"Robert slept with Tiffany."

Icy pain ran through my bones. 

I didn't believe her on instinct, didn't want to, but the look she wore told me she was serious. 

"Are you sure?" I asked. 

All the air shot from my lungs in one blow. 

"Yeah, um, then Bonzo took her back to the hotel. Robert told us not to tell you." 

She stood in the doorway still, casting a shadow down the hall. 

"He did?" 

Another stab.

Why didn't she protect me?

"Yeah." She stood with her hands clasped, the threat of tears haunting her. "Please don't be mad that I didn't tell you, or that I did tell you. I was just trying to do what was best."

I couldn't breathe. Bricks sat heavy on my chest. A thick lump made a home in my larynax. It languished on my vocal chords. I struggled to find the right words as I looked at her pained expression. 

"No, it's okay," I spoke through my pain, "I-I understand." I said, the lump choking me as I spoke. Cold hands twisted around my neck leaving behind a trail of bruised fingerprints. 

I slid down to the floor next to the thin door, Gwen following suit. "I'm sorry, Lore," she hugged me as I began to cry. 

Of course this was the truth. This was the inevitable, the twisting of the knife. I don't know whom I was trying to fool more, myself or everyone else. He didn't love me. 

Torrents of heat wracked my body as I let out a sob, falling harshly and heavy as fat rain. The tide rolled back as my body inflated with an inhale, the waves crashing back as I wailed with an exhale. 

I was shocked that Tiffany was the one who made it all come crashing down. I knew it had to end, but I thought it would be his wife. I always imagined the idea of him having children, something I tried to ignore, but I knew he had a wife. It was a subject both of us avoided like the plauge. 

If we didn't bring her up, she didn't exist. She was like an apperition waiting to appear at the foot of my bed at nightfall. She lingered around corner, threatening to topple it all. She was something I never wanted to think about always ended up on my mind. 

I spent the next fifteen minutes like this. I cried so hard my stomach muscles ached and my head throbbed. She held me the entire time, smoothing my hair down and telling me it was going to be okay. I listened to her and allowed her words to soothe my now exhausted body. 

But she was wrong. It wouldn't be okay. Everything would be different now. Robert had slept with someone else. 

"Gwen?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Why didn't you tell me before?" 

She sighed. I looked up at her to see her brows drawn together like theatre curtains. Her eyes evaded mine. 

"I don't know...I guess I didn't want to upset the balance. I was having such a good time with you that I didn't want you to go." 

"You don't have to lie." 

She sighed again. Her brows relaxed and gave way to preformance that lie behind them. 

"I didn't want to blow up Robert's spot. I've never been in this postion. I didn't know how to balance it." 

We fell into a silence. Neither of us knew what to say, I guess. We'd never been at odds this way. 

After a while of languishing in the silence I slumped into her lap and fell asleep.

-  

She left before I woke. I was tucked snuggly into the duvet. I looked at the clock before fighting my way out of the covers. The guys would be back soon but I was happy to be alone. 

I didn't know what I wanted to do more-- scream at him or fall into his arms. I dreaded seeing him shortly.

What would I say? What could I say? He would just look at me with those beautiful eyes and whisper something charming in my ear and whisk me off again. That's what he did every time. Every time he looked to another girl or came back too drunk. He just smirked with those terrible lips and apologized with empty words. I always fell for it. Always. 

I had been here so many times. I could recognize these familiar feelings, the way they sat uncomfortably in my body. It was not the first time I'd been hurt like this, not even by him. I was filled with the same aching hope that always came after finding this out. 

This time I really opened myself up, put myself on the line. I told myself he was different, that it could be different. 

I knew it was a lie. It was a delusion I conjured up to justify another cycle of bullshit. 

There was a knock at the door that interrupted my thoughts. I hoped it to be Gwen and went to answer it. But it wasn't. It was the last person I wanted to see.

Tiffany was standing in my doorway wearing a sweet smile. She was wearing a sparkly red halter top and a tiny pair of shorts. She looked so innocent, so unaware. I hated her for it. 

I imagined his hands on her body. The sweat dripping from his overheated frame onto hers, the sound of his voice bouncing off the walls and catching in her ears. How beautiful he must've looked to her. 

I felt angry that she would even look at him. How could she? He was mine to admire, to adore as his features were adorned with pale sunlight filtered from hotel windows. He was my temporary lover.

I had foolishily hoped he would be more.

Quite foolishly. 

I was consumed with anger. It must've come up from the floorboards---I felt it start in my feet. Thick, heavy heat traveled through me. I felt adrenaline in my blood like so much water. It reached my scorching chest. My skin was red hot with rage. It worked through me with a frightening speed. I lurched at her. 

I threw her to the ground, dug my nails into the soft flesh of her tawny bicep. I didn't feel sorry. I felt vindicated, like a fucking warrior. 

Loud howelling bounced off the walls. Someone was screaming. I didn't know if it was me or her. The pain my throat told me it was me, but her jaw hung like an open window, so maybe it was both of us. A bead of sweat rushed down my spine and landed at the waistband of my cotton shorts. I was burning. 

I pulled a chunk of her hair. I had never touched it before. It was soft like silk in my hands. She was screaming for help. I wasn't pulling hard enough to rip it from her skull but I wanted to. 

Her skin was inflamed from scratching and slapping. She didn't even try to fight back, just like that day at the beach when Bonzo chased her around for what felt like an hour. I could feel the breeze on my slick shoulders. 

She was helped alright. The guys rushed out of their doors to peel me off her. 

Her lipstick smeared and hair matted. Her halter top had even come undone. Jonesy had to help her keep it in place as they went to her room.

"Yeah, bird fight!" Bonzo exclaimed with a playful smile. Jonesy slapped his arm. He was drunk. 

Robert pulled me up from the floor. I was an after thought. He practically drug me by the ear to our room. 

Gwen stood next to her room's door. She was drenched in dim light from the wall sconce. Her face was cast downward. She avoided my eyes. I felt even more shame. 

"What the hell happened?" Robert cried. The door had barely swung shut. 

I couldn't look at him. 

"Lorelei, hello! What happened? Why did you attack Tiffany?" He said it as if he already knew the answer. 

I cocked my head, speaking with a force I hadn't found in myself before, "Don't act like you don't know! Did you think I wouldn't find out?" I was yelling now. 

He acted so smugly, asking me what was wrong. He knew well and good. 

"This is all over me?"

"Don't be flattered. I'm leaving." I spat as I pulled my suitcase onto the bed, slamming it with all the energy I could muster. I started to pack my things. Anger burned off my tired frame. I was steaming and sweating. Adrenaline still worked through my body.

He flipped the top of my suitcase down. "Lorelei, stop." 

His eyes dug into me. 

I pleaded with him to stop silently. He held too much power over me. I shifted my gaze down to the floor. 

"I'm sorry, okay? I never wanted to hurt you." 

His voice was gentle and soft. I wanted to melt into him right then. 

I tried to be strong. 

"Bullshit," I cried, pushing his hands off me.

"Hey, c'mon, you know I love you."

"Don't say it if you don't mean it," I said through teary eyes.

"I do, I mean it. I love you. You're my girl." 

His words were quiet as if he were trying to keep a secret. 

"Robert, stop. I can't- you can't mess with my head like this." 

Tears rushed from me and fell down my face. I didn't know what was up or down. His hands and voice were lulling me into a sleep, one I needed so badly. His voice was an offer of reprieve. His hands worked at me. His eyes gave me a place of ease.

"I'm not, I promise. I love you. I really do."

"You don't mean that." 

I tried to continue my packing but he stood in the way again. 

"Stay here with me and I won't even so much as look at another girl. My love, my darling Lorelei, you're all I want." He held his hands up in defense, earnestly showing me his open palms.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He asked, a hopeful glint in his tone. 

My chest heaved slowly as my breathing stalled. It would soon return to normal as my nerves were calmed. "I'll stay." I said foolishly. 

I didn't know what a mistake I had made. I just wanted peace. I just wanted to be loved by him.

He put my suitcase down and slid it under the bed, tucking all the pain away. I already started to forget. We laid in the bed. He was close to me. I could feel the coolness of his body. I got the feeling he had put on this same production before. He rested his hands on my face, gently brushing the tears from my cheeks. I tried to blink them away but they kept coming. 

We slept that night, peacefully and closely, after a passionate display of his love. It was his intention to make me feel good after all that pain. I still felt like my heart was swallowing itself, but he made it better. He almost made me forget it was his fault. 

He had a certain magic about him. He could make you forget. I knew I couldn't forget how much it hurt. I couldn't forget the sights I had imagined. It was going to tear me apart. It would be the pretending that really hurt.

---

Taglist:

@anothercanyonlady​ , @jonesyjonesyjonesy​   @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin​ , @jimmysdragonsuit13

[emlovslennon]

omgg last night I dreamed about supeeer cute soft dom george being very affectionate and giving making love to reader making her forget all her insecurities whispering in her ear a lot of worship, it's my first request and don't speak English very well but I'm here hehe love ya!

GUYS IM ALIVE HOLY FUCK BALLS !!! Anyway HEHEHHEHE evil laughter back to my mischievousness (mental illness). Also I LOVE YOU TOO

-

Era: 1965 cuz i feel like it

Audible moan.

-

You had been feeling extremely insecure ever since you got back from the opening of the the Beatles new movie, “Help!” You saw how in the newspapers they were saying incredibly cruel things about you, especially about how tight your black dress was when you wore it to the premiere. It was, “Name the Beatles wife with the worst taste?” Or “That dress certainly doesn’t look flattering on her!” Like it was some joke. You felt tears brim your eyes just thinking about it. You’d constantly look in the mirror and pinch at your stomach and thighs, you just couldn’t understand why you couldn’t be as beautiful as Jane or Maureen or Cynthia.

“Love, I’m back! Love? What’s wrong?” George said, he had just gotten back from a meeting about an upcoming album, so he unfortunately couldn’t take you along since it was a private meeting, not a public one. You were laying on your shared bed crying, with a newspaper at your side. The one that completely wrecked your self esteem. George caught on and picked up, in complete anger, he ripped the newspaper up and threw it in the trash.

“Absolute bloody rubbish! I hate those damn newspapers, y/n, come ‘ere love.” He said, quite angry, but gentle once he called your name. He couldn’t believe someone could say that about his wife. He thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. How could anyone not agree? They must be blind.

“Love, don’t listen to those bloody bastards, you are the most beautiful and lovely woman I ever laid eyes and have ever met. If they don’t believe that, then they must not have eyes.” He whispers in your ear, playing with your hair. Your tears at this point subsided and you looked up at him, he gave you a grin and kissed your forehead. You know this probably wasn’t the best timing, but you just couldn’t resist when he looks at you with nothing but pure love in his eyes.

“George, could you maybe show me how beautiful I am?” You say quietly, George winks at you in a joking manner and wiggles his eyebrows which make you giggle. George slowly positioned you to get you to lay on your back while he slowly got on top of you.

“I mean it when I say you look stunning in anything.” He whispers, playing with the hem of your black night gown, it was short and only went down to almost the end of your inner thighs. He looked at you for permission and you nodded, as he slowly lifted up your night gown, leaving completely exposed. You usually didn’t bother with under garments when you were going to sleep, you just didn’t feel the need for it.

“You amaze me every time, y’know that?” He praised, as his hands went to your breasts as he pulled you into a passionate kiss, leaving you breathless. George lifted himself up to take off his black long sleeve shirt and the pair of black pants he wore with it, as he went back down to kiss your neck, he hand slowly wandered down to your core, lightly rubbing causing you to whimper. George grinned at the sound, George loved nothing more than when you made noises for him, he doesn’t even really care when it comes to him getting off it’s just as long as you do he’s good.

“Can I?” He asks, his fingers nearing and circling your hole, you nod frantically as he giggles at your reaction, he slowly inserts two fingers into you. You bite your lip and throw your head back into the pillows with the intrusion. But you couldn’t lie, his fingers do wonders. He slowly thrusts them in and out as he watches you whimper and moan, he usually never goes fast unless you tell him to, he’s just never really been that kind of person. Whereas someone like John is the complete opposite.

“F-faster, George!” You moan out, causing George to kiss and suck on your neck harder than he did before as he went faster, your juices starting to seep down to the sheets as the noises coming from your core begin to echo through out the room. You felt the tightness and heat in your belly about to burst and you knew that only meant one thing.

“George-I’m-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence as you felt as if you were sitting stars as your orgasm hit. George never wanted to admit it, but he absolutely adored when you orgasm your a shaking and moaning mess for him, you look absolutely wrecked just from his fingers.

“Are you ready? Do you need a minute?” He asks, one thing to note about George, is that he is huge on consent, he would never, ever, do something that you didn’t like or something that he thought could hurt you. It would break him into a million pieces if that happened.

“Yes, please!” You say shakily, George nods as he kissed your forehead, slowly lining himself up and entering you.

“You’re always so good for me, always. No one could ever compare.” He whispers lovingly, kissing your earlobe as he slowly thrusts in and out of you.

“Your noises are to die for, you are to die for, i can’t get enough of you.” George loved praising you during sex, he always took pride in doing so.

“G-George, please.” You whisper, George looks up at you, with a questioning face.

“Please, faster! Please!” You moaned out, George gave you a smile and kissed your cheek as he went faster, but not too fast, just slightly faster than the pace he was going. You moan out as he brings his fingers down to your clit and rubs circles round it, making your legs shake. You could feel your orgasm getting closer and creeping up on you like it was the grim reaper.

“George! Im gonna cum, please!” You cried out, all the worry, sadness, and insecurities you were experiencing early had completely disappeared. They were nowhere to be found. George always managed to make your worries and fears go away, it’s like he was magic. But to be fair, he pretty much was.

“Aw, come on pretty girl, cum on me, go on.” George groaned, feeling his own orgasm creep up on him, and before you know it, it wasn’t before too long both of you came together. You were shaking and moaning for quite a bit even after he pulled out and kissed your face all over. George laid on his side and brought the covers over both of you.

“Did that make you feel any better?” George asked, his hand holding yours, you look up at him with a smile.

“What was I upset about again?”

-

THIS WAS KINDA CHEESY BUT WOOOOAH I LOVED IT

[mimilllion]

dogs (cogs) playin poker (toono)

[incorrect-band-situations]

Imagine going for a drive with Jim Morrison and Dennis Wilson

[eddiiiieeee]

My Angel ☆

Slash x reader

warnings: a bit of angst at the start, just fluff, mentions of alcohol and drugs, etc.

summary: y/n and Saul get into a fight about his addiction, and saul finds a letter y/n had written about him.

authors note: listen to September - sparky deathcap, because it fit 💀 part 2!!

"Oh go fuck yourself, saul!" she yelled out as tears streamed down her face, staring back at the man she loves. she hid her face in her hands as Saul let realization hit him, he failed her again, he relapsed after promising to stay clean for the third time in their five years together. he called her names, trashed the house, told her he wished he never loved her, that he despised her. all because she had flushed his stash down the toilet, those words were the first thing she said since he started his tantrum. her sobs now filling the apartment "s-shit baby" he mumbled as he walked towards her his hands reaching up to hold her arms "don't touch me" she said flinching away from him almost instantly she finally looked up at him, with a look he couldn't even describe. y/n grabbed her car keys and purse, quickly rushing out of the apartment, leaving saul alone with his mess. she left. his brain was too drugged to comprehend going after her, he didn't know what to do, he was lucky he was even still standing with the number of drugs he's consumed. Saul rushed over to the phone connected to the wall, dialling Stevens number as he waited, till he heard a voice "steven adler speaking!" "adler, I fucking- y/n, she left and... shes gone" saul sobbed into the phone, leaving his friend very confused as Steven looked over at duff who'd been over at his house "hold on, me and duff are on our way okay?" saul nodded, letting the other hang up as he fell against the wall. he looked around the trashed apartment and noticed underneath a pile of glass, was a book. y/ns handwriting on the front of it. it was her journal, the one she always wrote in. he moved over to grab it, his fingers moving over the old leather cover of the book. he opened the book and let whatever page open, his eyes read over the words, letting himself remember how he loved her handwriting, she always said it looked like a little kid's handwriting, almost unreadable but he always read whatever she would write. he noticed the date that was written 22/9/1987. the day guns n roses performed at the ritz in new york. how can he look so pretty, so angelic without even trying, my saul, a complete angel. gosh how I love him, how I adore him, I've loved and adored him since we first met before all this, before guns n roses, back in 84. I don't regret going to Madam Wong's in East Hollywood, I remember how adorable he looked, his hair was less wild then. I remember the funky clothes he wore that night, god how I remember what I felt when he looked at me. I felt like a little girl whose crush held her hand for the first time during recess. I remember how he stumbled over his words when he came up to me afterwards, I remember how gentle his touch was, how he asked to kiss me underneath a faulty street light in California's weather, I remember every date and moment that happened after. I know saul isn't clean anymore, it hurts me knowing he could slip through my fingers at any given moment, he doesn't remember how I held him a few nights back, I could hear his breathing vividly, and I could see how the colour and life was sucked out of him, he looked almost ghost-like. he doesn't know that's why I haven't slept well in the past few nights, how could I? how could I rest knowing my angel might vanish. how I hate when he does it, but then again, how I love him. my beautiful beautiful boy, I gifted him that song and told him it described him very well. a very beautiful boy. I've dreamt of love this good, and I've got it, saul hudson will forever be the man I love. if we're together or broken up, far or close, in love or fighting, he will always be that angel that sits in my heart, strumming his guitar without a care in the world, singing my favourite songs to me, letting me run my fingers through his untamed curls. I wonder if we ever have kids and if they'll take after him, I hope they do, how I would love little version of him, with his beautiful brown eyes, gorgeous black curls, beautiful facial features, warm coloured skin.

how I love him, my sweet beautiful boy, my guardian angel. y/n l/n ♥ Saul hadn't noticed how hard he began sobbing, this was how much she loved him. and yet all he did was tell her he didn't love her at all. he pulled the leather-covered book to his chest and pull his knees to his chest. not realizing that the door had opened and revealed the mess of an apartment to his two friends. Steven's eyes quickly made their way to Saul, who was surrounded by broken glass, and wood. Duff looked around, getting an idea of what just might have gone down. they both rushed over to Slash, glass breaking underneath their steps "Hey man" Steven said as he crouched down to Slash's level "we need you to calm down alright? so you can tell us what happened and where y/n is" the smaller blonde explained as Duff rubbed Sauls back 

"get him some water, Adler" Duff said as Steven rushed to do so. it didn't take Steven long before he made his way back to them handing Saul the glass, who chugged it down rather quickly. "could you now tell us what happened?" Duff asked, Saul, keeping his gaze straight ahead "she found out I relapsed.she flushed all my shit down the drain, and I got mad at her. I yelled, I threw things, broke some more, i-i told her I didn't love her... that I would never forgive her for what she did, fuck man- I told her I hated her, despised her even" he mumbled letting out a sob towards the end "and she told me to go fuck myself, and when I tried to touch her, she moved away and told me to not touch her, and then she... she left without another word. I need her, I really really love her and I fucked up" he mumbled tears rolling down his cheeks, not caring that this had to be the first time he'd cried around the guys. 

Steven squeezed his shoulder before sighing "let's get you to bed, and then I'll clean up here and Duff can go look for y/n/n, okay?" Steven told his friend before he and Duff had helped Slash up and to his bed, the one he and y/n got up from not long ago. the minute Saul's head touched the pillow, he was out. Duff noticed y/n's journal in Saul's grip, he took it and placed it on the bedside table before leaving the room and closing the door behind him, Steven grabbed a garbage bag and began cleaning up the glass "you knew. you knew he was doing drugs again and didn't say a word to her." Steven told Duff looking at him "I know, I already feel like an asshole" the man said as he sat down on the couch ..... part 2 will be up soon, I promise!! thoughts?